Page 45 of Miles Apart
Over two decades’ worth of memories captured in a trinket.
The verdict is still out on whether I’ll grab dinner down here or in my room. Sleep is necessary, but so was pairing gold heels with this red satin dress.
A man in a gunmetal suit unbuttons his jacket and folds his long frame into the seat next to me. The sharp edges of his profile melt into a buttery smile, one he directs at me.
“Ciao,” he says.
“Ciao.”
“Come si chiama?”
“Emma.”
His steady gaze rakes over my body. “Nicolo.Piacere.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
The conversation switches to English, trading what little Italian I know for a discussion about our time in Milan. He’s saying all the right things to keep my attention, and he’s handsome. But he’s not—
I stiffen at the dark stare cast over Nicolo’s shoulder.
Miles.
Chapter 20
Miles
“Ora puoi andare.”
Italian isn’t my strong suit, but Green Eyes can get the fuck on with his night. His brows cinch until he takes the hint and leaves without another word.
Emma is still in shock, which makes two of us. I don’t chase women across the street, let alone out of the country. Yet here I am, straight from the airport after an eight-hour nonstop flight.
I lean on the bar, motion for the bartender, and order a negroni sbagliato without a glance at Emma or her wide eyes. She already has me acting out of pocket and using my frequent flier miles. I need a minute to get my shit together before whatever verbal jabs we’re about to throw.
“What are you doing here?”
“Wanted a drink.”
“A drink,” she says to herself with a huff at my bullshit and shakes her head. She reaches for the key card on the counter and hops off the barstool. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“You left. Again.”
The words hang in the inches between us, with me leaning against the bar and Emma on some ankle stilts. We’re close enough for her breath to skate across my mouth.
I admire the curves of her pink lips as she licks them, and heat creeps up her neck. It’s faint but matches the scarlet dress, the one that’s kissing her body in all of the right places.
Emma’s brows crease, twisting from confusion into full-on irritation. Her lips pucker, and she straightens to her full height, still inches below my eye level.
“As I recall, I woke up by myself.” She grinds her teeth and throws up her hands. “Why are youhere? How did you find me?”
“You left,” I repeat, skipping over her question of how I’m standing next to her in a hotel thousands of miles from the one we shared in New York. With my line of work, the answer should be obvious, but I’m not about to explain it to her. “I told you I don’t sleep in the same bed with the women I fuck. I came back Sunday, but you were gone.”
“Did you expect me to wait by the phone for a call that would never come? I had to fly out here for work. You know what? It doesn’t matter.” Emma folds her arms and raises her chin.
“It does, and we’re about to fix this.” I step closer to inhale her perfume and smile at the hitch in her breath. “We’re not finished, kitten.” I put my credit card on the counter to close our tabs. “Did you eat?”
“Excuse me?”
